


That first step

by Chyrstis



Series: Secret Bonus Ending [8]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 16:33:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1948257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chyrstis/pseuds/Chyrstis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a slow evening. With V out of town it usually was, so Troy had given up on anything interesting happening that night. For the most part. -Post-SRIV-</p>
            </blockquote>





	That first step

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to hunny for the edit and ear, because this hit me within the last week or two with little warning. 
> 
> This assumes that the Saints do find a way to claim an Earth at some point, and takes place about a year down the line.

It was quiet. All Troy could hear was the jingle of his keys as he slipped them back into his pocket and locked the door behind him.

He flicked on the light and glanced around, missing the signs that usually told him V was home. Her discarded jacket, her boots piled by the door, and the light humming that came with whatever song was on the radio. None of it was there, and he didn't see any sign of Johnny either.

With V out of town for business in Steelport the two of them always had to figure out what to do on their evenings alone. While his days had him all over Stilwater, Johnny hit up the others at night, heading off to crash the clubs until Troy wandered out the next morning to find him dead asleep on the couch with an empty beer in his hand.

Other nights he'd fall into bed with his clothes still on, sprawling out over as much of it as possible. Troy's eyes would open, confirming it was Gat snoring there beside him, and he'd listen to him mumble something about pigs and their fucking uniforms until he'd get back to something resembling sleep.

Troy, on the other hand, kept his nights calm, because it was a rare chance to do nothing. He could flip on the TV, crack open a beer, or go for a walk if he ever felt the urge. He had options. Still, he never deviated far from the routines he already had. Even if V wasn't there to rope him into watching an old movie he'd check. Gat also always left the invite open, he just rarely ever took it.

And tonight Troy had given his usual raincheck, but now that he was home he knew he'd made the right call. The tension headache he had been nursing all day hadn't left, and he tossed his coat and jacket onto the back of the couch as he made his way to the bedroom.

He put his cigarette out after one last drag, and finished stripping the rest of his clothes off before heading into the bathroom. There would be a time to pick it all up later, but right now he wanted the tension gone, and hot water went a long way towards that.

Not waiting for it to finish heating up, he stepped in and weathered the chill until he was able to rest his forehead against the tile. He let himself relax into it after that, staying put until he felt the warmth start to sink into him.

He felt exhausted as he leaned back under the shower, giving himself an extra five minutes to soak it all in before reaching for the soap. He washed up in record time – without any extra hands the task wasn't as difficult to focus on – and he braced an arm against the tile as he let the water hit his shoulders.

But that wasn't working its usual magic _. Probably because you're shit at getting the knots out yourself,_ he mused.

And he was. V never failed to draw out a long sigh when she rubbed his shoulders and traced her nails down his back. They never stayed in one place, however, especially when he'd taken to giving her a guiding hand himself. The moan she'd get after that always had her grinning, and when his hand closed around himself he tried to imitate her rhythm. The exact grip she used that had him flexing his jaw as she coaxed anything she could out of him.

By now she would've dropped to her knees to take him into her mouth, curving her tongue as he buried a hand in her hair. Her lips would tighten around his cock, taking him as deep as she'd dare before withdrawing, and when his hips began to move with her she'd always hum around him. That small vibration paired with her tongue never failed to leave him scattered.

He moved quicker when he imagined her standing, her lashes low while her nails scratched along his sides, because she would pull him forward. Kiss him until he'd have her against the shower wall, his hand down between her legs and moving fast enough to make her writhe against him.

If he'd been waiting then Johnny would move in after that. Get close enough to V to tell her what she wanted to hear, the words half for her and half for them. Dragging her mouth over for a kiss, Troy would feel her nails dig in, and wait for Johnny's next move. It never took long for him to-

“-figure something out.” Troy's posture went rigid as he heard the door to the bathroom hit the wall, and didn't turn around. “Though you think the fucking place would have something going for it other than a minibar stretching along the wall. I don't even know what half of that shit was coming out of those cannons. ”

He set his head against the tile harder than he intended, but when Johnny didn't say anything else Troy was tempted to give it one more go just for good measure.

Tonight would be early for him. Just when his luck had hit new lows it never failed to dig the hole a little deeper.

“Early night?” Troy asked, cringing at how his voice sounded.

“Something like that. There's a few more to hit, but I'm not feeling the next.” Something hit the floor, and he heard more rustling as Johnny kept on moving around. “It's loud, and that karaoke shit's for V and Pierce.”

“And if she's out, you're out, right?”

“Yeah. They're not giving me a fucking mic.”

Troy pressed a hand to his eyes and stepped back under the shower. “They'd be missing out. You on the lead for one on V's playlist? I've always wanted to hear you take on Queen while sober.”

“Bite me. That was one time.”

“One's all it takes. You know how it is,” Troy said. Gat leaned against the door, and Troy glanced at him over his shoulder. The glass gave him enough of a view to tell him that he'd lost his jacket, and was working on his shirt. “What was that about cannons?”

“Oh. Yeah, those fucking things were filled with this purple shit. They rang a gong and sprayed it on every level. Stained everything. The car's covered too.”

Troy sighed and gestured towards him. “So, you coming in, or...?”

“Thought you'd need a minute. I can wait.”

“Just get the fuck in here,” Troy told him, shoving the door open. “I've had a shit day, so don't bother. I'll be here for a while.”

Johnny shrugged and pulled his shirt over his head. The streaks of purple across it hadn't been exaggerated, and when he'd dropped the rest Troy stepped aside to let him have the shower to himself.

Glitter glinted in the strangest places, and when Gat met his eyes Troy found it tough not to grin. The loss of his glasses told him how pissed he really felt, and when he frowned it only made his expression more severe.

Yet Troy couldn't resist jabbing at him. He never could. “You missed a spot.”

“Whatever.” Gat grabbed for the soap, and the amount of energy he spent scraping the junk off of him was impressive. “It'll come off.”

He spent a good while concentrating on just that, his hurried movements relaxing into something more subdued, and by the time he was leaning into the spray to savor it Troy found himself trying to find a way to do the same. The solid chip he'd made in his tension had left him aching for more relief, and though he'd tried to get rid of it, his erection hadn't booked it like it should've. Instead it seemed to be biding its time, and he made a frustrated noise as he brushed shoulders with Gat.

“I'm surprised they didn't call you in,” Johnny told him, catching his eye. “Had a fight on the lower level, and I know those motherfuckers tried to get us thrown out.”

His phone hadn't made a peep since he'd climbed into his patrol car, and Troy raised an eyebrow. “Don't know what I would've done to help. Slap cuffs on you? Like any of that shit would've worked.”

“Fuck no, but I'd love to see you try.”

He wouldn't. Johnny restrained was nothing short of a nightmare. “And have you beat the shit out of me? Again? Sorry, man, you need to work on your foreplay.”

The dirty look Gat threw at him made Troy close his eyes as he moved under the spray, and while he scrubbed his face he started to consider his options.

He was going to have to call it quits soon. The energy running through him made him want to run off to finish in the spare room with a guilty hand over his face, or crank the heat to ice cold to shock the tension out of him. He wasn't thrilled with the idea – much like he was sure Johnny wouldn't be – but the hard on wasn't going anywhere. If anything, it was fucking determined to stay.

Hell, if he was being honest with himself, he was tempted to say 'fuck it' and finish anyway. It wasn't like it was anything new after the times they had been with V before, and he knew Johnny kept his eyes on them when they moved together. Each and every time when she would grip his hair tight and he'd push her to the point of being speechless. Johnny had seen plenty already, and Troy's sense of shame seemed to be dwindling by the day.

Troy chuckled and shook his head. _What was one more time?_ “Eh, fuck it. Just ignore me for the next five to ten minutes.”

He rested an arm against the wall as he got back into the same position Gat had found him in, leaning forward, his hand wrapped tight, but not too tight around himself and took in a slow breath. Then took an experimental stroke. He made it through two before the sensation of being under a magnifying glass made him stop.

“Could you just-” he started, then shut his mouth.

This was the perfect moment for Johnny to laugh him right out of the room. He'd caught him already, he already had more than enough to run him out. But he was watching him instead. Watching each move with an unfamiliar tilt to his mouth, as a low hum slipped out. “Want help?”

The question lodged in Troy's brain somewhere, sounding completely like words and phrases he should've recognized, but refused to register. “What?”

Gat's eyes flicked back up to meet his. “You heard me.”

His mouth was hanging open as he went over the words again, and when they clicked his throat went dry. “No, don't think I did.”

“You waiting for me to reach over and get it started for you?”

“The fuck?”

Johnny laughed then, and Troy still couldn't pull together an expression that didn't involve gaping at him. “No? You telling me to fuck right off instead?”

“No, it's just-” Troy stared right at the wall, and couldn't tell if he was stunned or simply incapable of speech any longer.

“Just what?” Gat asked, his voice slipping into the lower register that V loved.

“Just...I don't know.” He wet his lips, and forced himself to meet Johnny's gaze. “As far as ideas go, it's gone from left field straight to the fucking moon.”

He shrugged and stepped under the spray again, his hand running through his hair. “You get fucking hard like that, anything'll work. Just saying it's better with help.”

And his brain came to a stuttering halt again, restarting once he caught exactly how Johnny was eying him. “Sure.”

“Sure?” The tilt turned into a slow smile, and Troy felt as if he were pinned to the spot. “Sure as in 'fuck yeah', or sure as in 'whatever'?”

“Sure. Just...” The words trailed off and he didn't know. It had to have been written all over him, and that almost stunned him more than anything else. “Sure.”

Johnny reached over, his hand floating between them, and stopped when he was less than a few inches from him. Neither of them looked away when he tentatively made contact, but the moment Gat's fingertips brushed against Troy's skin, he flinched.

The shift in Johnny's expression had Troy holding up a hand to reassure him, and when he dropped it, Johnny let his eyes travel again. And when he brushed his fingers along his length a second time, Troy swallowed against the dry feeling in his throat.

But he didn't flinch away. He heard a chuckle, and Troy tried not to hiss through his teeth. “What?”

“You and V. Can't keep her eyes open either.”

The grip was loose and when Johnny's fingers started moving up, Troy felt his whole body tense.

“You want me to stop?”

Johnny had stopped moving, but didn't let go. “No.”

“Relax,” Gat said, the grip switching to something firmer. “I'm not going to fucking break you.”

Troy took in another slow breath, but didn't hold it. “I know.”

The fingers around him tightened as Johnny stayed in place, neither moving closer or backing off. Then he felt it again. The start of that slide, up towards the tip then back down. The water made the movement slick as it ran down Johnny's arm, and Troy's next breath came up short.

It was slow. Slow and steady as a rhythm built that had his hands braced against the wall behind him. His head arched with his back as each long stroke came to an end, and when Gat topped it off with a small twist around the base, Troy clenched his teeth almost hard enough to hurt.

He felt the chuckle, heard it low from Johnny as he leaned in closer, and Troy cracked his eyes open. “You're one smug fucker, you know that?”

His grin took on that edge, and Troy felt it. Almost knew for a fact that if he hadn't been hard before he would've been now. “Your point?”

There wasn't one. His brain had stopped trying to come up with anything sensible the minute Johnny had reached out for him, and now it was grasping for anything. “Just stating the obvious.”

“Obvious,” he repeated, rolling the word over his tongue. “Yeah, I am fucking good aren't I?”

The insult didn't even get to leave Troy's mouth. Only a moan did, and he bucked his hips forward. His back hit the wall seconds later, the cold slap knocking a moment of clarity into him before the rough kiss forced it back out.

It was a harsh press, one that led into another as Johnny's hand let go to rest flat against him. By the third kiss Troy had opened his mouth to the tongue running along his lower lip, and when Johnny's teeth grazed him Troy didn't bother to wait for him to start moving again.

“Fucking A,” Gat panted, curling his fingers as Troy ground into his palm. “Thought you were the patient one.”

“I am.” He felt Johnny's grip go tight. “I'm just waiting for you to stop fucking with me.”

“And do what?”

Troy rolled his hips again, each motion punctuated with a harsher breath than the last, and Johnny let him keep on going. Held him in place with a hand on his hip while he watched. “I-fuck,” Troy murmured, shutting his eyes. “I don't know.”

Johnny's mouth moved to his jaw, then to his jugular, sucking hard. He sucked again, and Troy's hand went to his shoulder, slipping as he tried to hold on. “I've got some ideas.”

“Sure you do,” Troy tangled his hand in his hair, and yanked him back to his mouth. “You always do.”

Johnny's hand slipped away completely, and when his hips took its place, Troy didn't let the rough slide slow. He kept up with each one, Johnny's cock as hard as his as it pressed against him, and Troy's breath caught when he gave him the first idea.

More suggestions followed, all of them hot against his ear. What he could do. What Gat would like to do, as he moved in time with him, and slipped his hand between them. The firm press made Troy angle into it, each touch enough but not enough, and when Johnny stepped back to wrap his fingers around him again, Troy couldn't say a fucking thing. Only pushed against the wall, against him, anything to keep moving.

“Come on,” Johnny said, pumping his hand while groaning against Troy's mouth. “Come on.”

His hips moved with him, his hands going anywhere he could get a grip, and when Johnny's tongue moved in time with his thumb, he couldn't hold on any longer.

A choked gasp came out, his fingers digging into Johnny's shoulders, and he bucked with every stroke. Every last move kept Gat's hand sliding with him, and when Johnny's tongue pushed into his mouth Troy clamped his hand down behind Gat's neck. Held him close as teeth scraped along his lips and the hand on his hip clenched tight.

He slumped against the wall when he couldn't move any more, idly aware of the grip Johnny now had on his own cock as he worked, and it only took a few harsh strokes for him to come loudly. He let out a long breath, sucking down a few more before straightening his posture, and gave Troy a heavy lidded look before stepping under the shower.

He was supposed to say something. Troy knew it, as he watched Gat wash himself clean, but he couldn't focus. Couldn't push his mind through the haze it had settled into.

“You good?” he asked, wiping his hands down.

The small nod he gave made Johnny's expression turn skeptical, and Troy ran a hand over his face. “...No, I'm good. Just thinking.”

“Well, it's either one or two things. You like it and we roll with it, or you don't.”

“Did you?”

“You want the short or long answer?”

Troy kept quiet as Johnny came close again, a smile tugging at his lips, and he leaned in. The kiss was calmer, restrained in a way that didn't make sense to him, and Troy broke it first. “I don't know.”

Gat stepped back. “Probably should've mentioned the third.”

“That? Not knowing?”

“Yeah,” he said, the odd softness lingering. “Sometimes it really ain't that easy.”

“No, it wouldn’t be, would it?” Troy gave him one last glance, and dropped his eyes. “I'm sorry, I just-”

“Forget it.” Johnny hit the switch for the water, and left as fast as he'd swept in.

 


End file.
